


A Train With No Destination

by Fade_from_the_Light



Series: Aimless and Endless [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, New Game Plus, Non-Linear Narrative, Persona 5 Spoilers, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Suicide Attempt, Time Loop, Unreliable Narrator, but no one actually dies, for the first few chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25035892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fade_from_the_Light/pseuds/Fade_from_the_Light
Summary: Akira’s forced to repeat the same year—not always year. The small suppressed part of his whispers. Sometimes it's only a few weeks before youendeverything—time and time again with no indication of it ever stopping. Sometimes he wishes that it would stop.Sometimes he wishes that it would never end.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro & Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Aimless and Endless [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813150
Comments: 9
Kudos: 84





	1. it’s the faintest hints of feelings that stir within my chest

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is a rewrite of the one-shot I posted almost three years ago that grew far larger than I anticipated. Reading the original work is not necessary to enjoy this work. If you decide to stick around, you'll be in for a ride.
> 
> Beta read by my lovely friend ['Nate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowtoProcrastinate).

Akira leans back into the familiar seat on the train by the window. It shouldn't— _couldn’t_ —be familiar but it is. The fabric was stiff but forgiving enough to make the ride home comfortable. 

Morgana lays sprawled out next to him, hidden away in his bag so that no passersby could catch a glimpse of him. Even now Akira could feel the faint connection from Morgana’s Arcana, the Magician hanging just out of view. It’s complete now, their bond fully realized and the collar resting deep within his pocket, but he didn’t know how long it would stay this way. Even after all this time he could never determine exactly when these cycles ended.

All endings were murky, the moment where everything resets differing even between similar endings. He wonders if it was cruelty or compassion that gave him this variety. Anything beyond a certain point was only half-remembered in his next cycle anyways, so he grew to become ambivalent with the variability.

The endings may be faded and a bit moth bitten, but he could remember the rest of the cycles with sharp clarity. And everything that he couldn’t change.

He is forced onto a path that he has to traverse through every iteration of the cycles. Any attempts to deviate ends the cycle abruptly, shoving him into the next cycle so quickly he can still hear the ringing from the last one. The first time that it happened his ears were ringing with an unexplainable headache, vertigo from hanging bent over the end of a roof twisted in his gut, and his hands tingled with the brush of someone who was just out of reach.

It’s safe to say that he didn’t try that again for some time.

He also quickly learned that there were multiple endings that he could achieve; he personally categorized them into: good, bad, and true endings. Through some unexplainable feat, he managed to achieve the so-called true ending on his first cycle. A part of him, a part of him that he attempted to quiet and sequester, whispers that he just may not remember anything before that ending. That it was the true ending that unlocked this endless cycle.

He wonders if it was more merciful when he couldn’t remember anything beyond the faint sense of deja vu that settled in his bones.

At first the repetition was alarming but not unwelcome. He thought that he had a second chance to right what he couldn’t previously.

(He didn’t even consider that there wasn’t going to be an end. That he would repeat the year over and over again until he didn’t even want to wake in the morning.)

There were Arcanas that were left empty, the untethered end floating aimlessly in the space that spans between others, people that he should’ve met but didn’t. One Arcana rests at his fingertips, a remembrance of being full—being completed—sitting just out of reach. He wonders how long that Arcana stayed empty for it to hold to echo of being full despite the reset. How many times he ignored them or was ignored for it to be remembered through everything he’s forgotten.

It’s painful, losing all of the bonds that he’s forged. He holds onto the trinkets and memorials that they’ve given him throughout the cycles—ever only one of each, no matter how many times he’s completed a bond—but they can’t stop the ache in his chest. It’s a vast, gaping hole within him, the place where every Arcana he’s held rests. But, despite how painful it is to keep the Arcana, he can’t stop himself from forming the bonds.

He can’t stop from wanting to feel full despite all the emptiness inside.

It’s hidden behind his smile, this emptiness, and between words filled only with pleasantries and fluff. No one remembers so no one knows that something is off. Part of him—the same part that viciously whispers about the timelines that he couldn’t remember, the part that he doesn’t like to look at—wishes that someone would say something. He longs for a person to sit him down, rip away all his mask and address the festering emptiness inside of him.

But no one does because no one remembers what he was before.

Sometimes he wonders if he could even remember.

The cards Maruki gave to him cut into his palm and he realizes just how tightly he’d been holding them. He loosens his grip, thin beads of blood dotting his hand. The cards were crumpled but he isn’t too concerned. The originals sit in the bottom of his bag, tucked away safely in a folder with the rest of the memorials he’s collected over the cycles. They are crisp and flat but the corners are worn soft with his touch. He remembers Maruki’s words, what Maruki was striving for. Sometimes it doesn’t seem so bad.

Sometimes he accepts Maruki’s offer.

It had taken him a few runs, a few bad runs to be more accurate, to even consider the option. The thin grin behind a silver gun twinkling, _gleaming_ in the harsh artificial light with shaded eyes was worse than seeing it twisted into a grimace and the eyes shining with betrayal from a boy who’s been betrayed all his life.

So he denies him the life of freedom that he strives for and accepts Maruki’s proposal.

These runs are by far the hardest to remember. He sits in a booth in LeBlanc, sipping long cold coffee and watching the rising sun filter in through the windows. He doesn’t leave, his phone rings with unanswered calls and buzzes with unopened messages. They eventually stop and he wonders if they entered the Palace. They trusted him to make the decision and he hopes that they’ll follow it even if they don’t agree.

He doesn’t doubt that Akechi has already stormed through the Palace, willing to cut away anything that will stop him from reaching his goal. Their relationship might’ve been a unique one, a bond between two people who seeked to fill the emptiness within their own hearts, but it wasn’t immune to change. Akira could feel it fade and flicker, the faint connection between them disappearing by the second.

When it finally snapped, he didn’t know if he was relieved or remorseful. It left a gorge, a space in between all the other threads of his Arcana that couldn’t be replaced. The thread wasn’t severed cleanly, it was frayed and burned and he knew that Akechi fought with all his might to break it.

Even if this doesn’t pan out the way he wants it, the cycle will end and everything will be reset back to the way it was, no worse for wear.

(It should concern him that he has become so reliant on the endless nature of the cycles but it doesn’t. Emptiness has already consumed him, what’s left of him that feels concern?)

But the world around him ripples, and for a moment, everything is crashing together. He is unconcerned, drinking his still-cold coffee. Once everything stills, Maruki comes to visit him, sitting across from him in the booth. A smile is on his face, weary on the edges but proud. For a moment, neither of them speak, the silence after the birth of the new world deafening.

But it’s Maruki’s world, so he’s the one to end this silence. “You made the right decision. Everyone will be happier this way.”

Akira knows that no matter what he says will be erased when Maruki places him in his role in this world. “What about you? We’ve both been through your Palace. Are you pleased?”

The smile didn't fall from Maruki’s face, it just grew strained. “There will be no more pain, no more suffering. How can I not be happy?”

There’s an edge in Maruki’s voice, thin and carefully veiled but clear as day to Akira. It’s the same tired acceptance that he has regarding the cycles. If you are unable to change what’s happening, then you have to ride the waves until the water’s calmer. And if the water’s never calm, well, that’s something he’s still trying to figure out.

Akira brings the cup to his lips, now full of a drink that is steaming and just what he’s looking for: mild with the faintest hints of bitterness. “You’re right.” He agrees because he knew that his chance to fight has long since passed. “What about my friends? Have you dealt with them?”

Maruki’s expression flickers, a bit of annoyance surfaces but is quickly removed. “While ‘dealt’ is a bit strong of a word, I have granted them a place in this world. Even Akechi, despite his attempts to fight to the end.”

A smile tugs on Akira’s lips, the first true one in a multitude of runs. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” There is an aged quality to Maruki’s voice, a joy not gained from victory but mutual agreement after years and years of fighting.

He wonders, for the first time, if Maruki can remember too.

But the world around him flickers and fades and everything he’s thinking is lost.

He remembers bits and pieces, snapshots of the life Maruki created for them. It’s so perfect that it’s edging on the sickening sweet of white lies and half-truths. Everyone is exactly how he remembers and complete strangers all at the same time. It hurts in a way that burns; the pain of knowing that this is what could be but couldn’t have devours him far more viciously than any emptiness inside of him.

He’s still lonely, despite the ideal world that Maruki’s created for them, a heavy feeling of wrongness resting over him, settling on the edges of his vision. He should be happier, he is happier, but he can’t shake that this is something that shouldn’t be.

Seeing Maruki sparks something within him—not that he even knew that the man was Maruki in the run—an age-old, timeless fatigue that rests heavy on his limbs. After taking a picture with everyone—Everyone? Akechi asks, a thin gleam of a smile resting on his lips. I’m glad that everyone is here—the run ends.

The next one, Akira wakes up on the train crying for a world that he’ll never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've gotten this far, I'd like to give a bit of backstory to this work. As I said before, this is a rewrite of the story I wrote almost three years ago, and at the time this type of story wasn't as prevalent as it is now. 
> 
> Despite that, I decided to rewrite my little one-shot with the new content added in Royal. I'm glad that I did and I hope that you guys will come to enjoy the story as much as I have.
> 
> Please comment and kudo! Chapter 2 will be up next Thursday.
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](https://fade-from-the-light.tumblr.com/).


	2. that remind me of the life i should be living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's cracks in the edges of his vision. He's not sure how long they've been there.
> 
> Every day he swears they grow large.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I've edited the tags a bit since posting the last chapter, nothing all that substantial but I felt that I should point it out. I believe that all the harsher topics have been tagged but as I edit the work, I may continue to add tags.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!
> 
> Beta read by my lovely friend ['Nate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowtoProcrastinate).

It’s those runs that leave Akira longing for something more, something beyond the never-ending cycles that he’s found himself in. It’s the knowledge of what could be and the what-ifs that lead him to question exactly what is he doing here. Exactly why he’s been forced to complete this year over and over again.

This year was once a time that he hoped wouldn’t fade with age. A time now that he wishes he could wash away with the faint, gentle breeze.

But he continues to wake up with merciless memories time and time again no matter what he does. Time passes slowly, even if it's rewinding backwards to the day that he opened his eyes on an unfamiliar—unfamiliar? How can it be unfamiliar if he’s ridden so many times he sees it in startling clarity in his dreams?—train taking him into the unfamiliar Tokyo city. 

He learns that nothing is unfamiliar to him. Nothing shocks him because nothing can change.

Any attempts that he tries to alter anything are futile. It’s something that didn’t take him long to learn but far too long to accept. Even now, the faint imprint of a ringing headache rests against his skull, a reminder as to what any deviation results in.

He wonders why exactly he’s fighting, why exactly he continues to take down the same people, change their hearts while being unable to change anything else. The fragile patchwork of connections he’s made may not know that he’s trapped, that this year just keeps on repeating, but it doesn't change the fact that it _is_. They are no less trapped than he is.

They are just blessed with the ignorance that allows them to forget everything that’s happened before.

He admires their courage, their willingness to fight despite the odds they face. Nothing and no one will stand in their way, or stop them from reaching out and continuing forward. He used to think this way, feel it in the very essence of his personality.

The reflection in his mirror always grins with a thin, grim smile, mocking him for even looking. There is nothing there that reminds him of who he used to be.

(Was there anything in the first place? He’s no longer sure.)

He wonders if anyone noticed this within him, this falsity. That he’s just imitating the determination that they show to join their ranks as an equal. He wonders if they would discard him once they learn just how empty he was. 

He wonders if he should blame them. 

His phone buzzes and he glances at it. It lights up with a name that he can never make out, forgotten no matter how long he tries to remember it. A presence brushes up against his senses. Familiar enough to feel foreign and close enough to be distant.

The frayed edges of a bond he can’t quite remember stir within his chest.

He whips his head to the window but he’s always just a second too late. Despite their proximity, he can never tell who exactly walks by that window or which Arcana that responds to their call.

(He knows but he can’t accept it—that’s his problem, accepting things. He can never settle with what he sees—accepting it would make it true. And making it true would mean he’s missed something so important that he couldn’t believe he’d ever forget it.)

Hope burns bitterly on his tongue as he shuts the window, cutting off the light. Cutting off the connection with the Arcana that he can’t place but brushes with chilled familiarity.

The train takes off with a jerk, the movement rhythmic and soothing. He finds himself drifting off despite his desperate attempts to stay awake, to grasp onto the thin lines of memories dissipating from his hands. 

Everything flickers and fades in a pale imitation of the distortion from the Metaverse and his mind goes blank.

——

Akira jolts awake on the train, the intercom calling out one stop or another. He doubles over, a tearing, widening gap ripping open in his chest. The emptiness just encroaches further into him, devouring even more of the faint scraps that are left. He gives a small part of him to each Arcana formed and he has to give another each time they forget.

He wonders what will happen when he runs out of pieces to give. 

The Arcana rest in his mind, lined up in an empty, dusty row. They flicker and spark as he rides through the city, reaching out to those that they connect with. Eventually they will be filled. That much, he can guarantee no matter the time line, he creates each bond because he knows exactly how isolating it is to feel unwanted. 

He might not be able to save himself but he can certainly save everyone else. They may not be able to feel the Arcana like he can, but they can feel the warmth that their bond creates long after he’s gone.

The train eventually stops and he drags himself out of the car. Shibuya warps in his vision and he can see the twisted skeletal remains of Mementos and the half-glimpses of Maruki’s influences out of the corner of his eyes layered over each other. 

But it disappears as quickly as it comes and he moves on. He longer has the capabilities to be surprised. Not when this is something that he feels like he’s seen in the shuffle of his half-remember and half-forgotten memories.

He floats through the first few days of the run. He just has to nod when appropriate and appear to be listening. It certainly helped that he could practically recite everything they’ve said from memory. This part of the run, these few days in particular, is almost always repeated. There's a thin, almost unnoticeable fatigue resting on the edge of everyone’s expressions. He doesn’t know if he’s imaging, painting it there in hopes to find some commonality between him and everyone else. 

He leaves it there. There’s comfort in something that’s familiar yet unfamiliar to any cycle he’s been through.

After bearing the side eyes full of suspicion from the teachers and the traffic that wouldn’t move due to the actions of a single boy pushed by the greed of many, Akira arrives at LeBlanc. 

It hasn’t changed. It never does. The same faded storefront stares back at him, wood gently aged and paint peeling minimally in the corners and junctions. It gave into the aged yet timeless appeal of the small café. Akira opens the front door and steps inside, the smell of coffee with the faintest slivers of curry permeating through the air. 

(At times, he’s been told that he too smells like coffee, like the faint hominess that embodies LeBlanc. He doesn’t quite believe them.)

Sojiro stands leaning against the counter, his hat on the worn wood of the countertop next to him and the coffee maker bubbling happily beside him. Akira’s quiet as he enters—too quiet that small part of him supplies, far too quiet—slinking in almost as if he shouldn’t be there. 

Sojiro levels him with a look that Akira’s hasn’t seen before this early in the run. It’s concern that isn’t hidden by layers and layers of mistrust and doubt and that little bit of fear for Futaba’s safety despite the rooms and streets that separates them. He steps away from the counter, fiddling with the coffee maker a moment before speaking. “Hey kid, how are you holding up?”

Akira doesn’t meet Sojiro’s eyes, electing to look at the coffee that he’s expertly pouring out. The movements are ingrained into Akira’s memory and he can still feel the echoes of excitement and awe watching Sojiro teach him how to make a cup. He wonders what expression he’s making now. 

“Everything’s fine.” The words taste foreign and bitter in his mouth, as if he doesn’t quite believe them. He’s never spoken these words aloud quite like this, in this conversation that shouldn’t exist in the first place. But the ache in his head in only a dull one, the echoes of mistakes long since passed.

Sojiro looks like he doesn’t believe Akira but the hesitation is written even clearer. Neither of them are in the place to push any further. “Just make sure that you keep up with your studies. Don’t give anyone a reason to get on your case.”

Akira nods, the movement mechanic and instinctual. Sojiro sighs and pushes the cup in Akira’s direction. “Clean up the cup and don’t stay up too late. You have school tomorrow.”

Akira sits in a chair at the bar, bringing the cup to his lips. The roast was mild, a faint hint of bitterness swirling through. “Thank you.”

A little smile flickers on Sojiro’s lips. “So you can appreciate a good cup of coffee. Maybe you’re not a lost cause after all.” 

A faint flutter of a bond yet to be formed twists in Akira’s heart. Sojiro steps out of LeBlanc, shutting and locking the door with a click that echoes in the silence of the cafe left behind.

Akira continues to sip the coffee, savoring the flavor against his tongue. It’s familiar in a way that he couldn’t place, beyond the hidden signature in any cup that Sojiro brews. No matter how hard he’s tried, Akira’s never been able to replicate it. At this point, he wonders if he’s imagining it. 

He finishes the cup of coffee, washes it out in the sink and places it on the counter to dry. The cafe around him was silent, a pale imitation of what should be. Even now, the faint echoing of his friends’ voice could be heard, laughter and conversation bubbled between them like the slowly moving water in a creek. 

He looks away and trudges up the stairs, his steps loud in the twinkle of the voices of his friends dancing below.

The next morning he wakes slowly, a thick sadness settling in his limbs from dreams he can’t remember. They twist and turn tantalizingly out of reach, leaving him with an emotion of empty longing like he’s lost something he couldn’t live without. Sometimes he wishes that he could remember them.

Sometimes he wishes that he wouldn’t wake from them. 

But he always does and will continue to do so until the end. He will wake up every day to a world that doesn’t want him but isn’t willing to reject him for the fear that he’ll finally move onto something better. 

So he drags himself out of bed, throwing on his uniform and running a hand through his hair so it at least looks to be styled messily. Sojiro sets a plate of curry out on the bar before him, a steaming cup of coffee beside it. He thanks him for the meal and eats it with precise, measured bites. He has half a mind to feign surprise at what should’ve been abnormal, but he didn’t. This has become his normal no matter what was normal to him before. 

He leaves LeBlanc, making sure to flip the sign at Sojiro’s request, and sets off to Shujin. He’ll never make it, nothing that he tries will change that, but he can pride himself with his knowledge of the train systems, honed with years of practice. He’s lived a lifetime in these streets after all.

He regards Kamoshida with veiled disterest that he can see presses on every nerve that Kamoshida has. It almost gives him a sense of cruel enjoyment to see the man squirm under his gaze. 

Almost.

Kamoshida leaves without even offering Akira a ride, anger simmering in his gaze. Akira watches the car for as long as he can; it weaves in and out of traffic until it disappears around a corner. A thin, little thing of a smile digs into his expression and it takes all his effort to wipe it from his face when Ryuji runs up to him. 

The encounter goes as well as it has in any other run, Akira making sure that the Nav is activated and he mimics the correct words to get into Kamoshida’s Palace. He gets a match—when hasn’t he gotten a match—and the world around them ripples and distorts in a way that was once disorienting but now brushes by him with familiarity of a long lost friend. 

Sometimes he finds himself longing for a time before everything was familiar.

He follows Ryuji to the school, indulging him in his weak attempts to ignore what is clearly present before them by running around in aimless circles. Eventually Ryuji accepts the inevitable and enters the castle. They’re ambushed, the Shadows lying in wait in the corners of the hall with echoes of the insatiable lust of their king, and dragged into the bowels of the castle.

The fear he should be feeling is a pathetic reflection of Ryuji’s, an attempt to mirror something he could no longer feel. Kamoshida struts in, his gaudy cape wrapped out his shoulders, a false gold crown resting on his head. He orders their execution and Akira cries out against Ryuji’s just like he’s told to.

He waits while he’s pinned for the familiar unbearable feeling of the mask on his face, the lilting whispers of Arsène's voice settling within his skull. 

But nothing comes and he realized exactly what was missing this whole run. Arsène is always there no matter how many times he’s fused him or discarded him, a faint presence that he can't rid his heart of. 

Now, not even Arsène rests within the emptiness inside of him.

The guard leans Akira forward so the pale strip of the back of his neck is exposed. He could feel the faint chilled breeze from the guard raising the blade above his neck.

An unfamiliar emotion flickers to life within him. A fear of the unknown that he hasn’t felt in any time that he could remember. That he thought he forgot how to feel.

The blade swings down and for a moment the pinching, searing pain floods his senses and everything goes dark.

——

He awakes to the sun gleaming out of a window on the train and a hand threaded through his hair to the back of his neck. A thin, raised scar rests there, the exact thickness of the blade.

A sickness rests deep within his gut, slowly moving to fill his veins with a sluggish apprehension. He didn’t know why that happened, why Arsène wouldn’t come to his call. Now, Arsène rests just out of reach in his heart waiting for the chance to be called upon. This was unfamiliar and he was quickly realizing that he didn’t like it.

Something sinks even further within him. Ryuji had to see him die. There’s no way for him to remember it now, but it doesn’t change the fact that he had to see Kamoshida kill him in that Palace. No one—other than Akechi, who sat behind a gun that he wields like a shield, a mask that’s perfect and full of holes all at the same time—had seen him die. Not like this.

Akira stumbles out of the car, foreign emotions rising up within him, emotions that he’s thought he’s forgotten how to feel long ago. He needs to get to Ryuji, to make sure that his inability to stick to the script doesn’t hurt him. He may no longer have the blessing of ignorance, but his friends do. 

His head is ringing with a pounding of a distinct wrongness of his actions. He’s going to pay for this deviation but he can’t stop himself. He hasn’t felt this level of determination before, no longer faded with age and the blur of half-remembered feelings.

He finds Ryuji in the arcade in Shibuya, not quite sulking but sitting with an anger aimed at the world, Kamoshida, and his own inability to press forward. The Chariot burns bright within him, even if the bond has yet to be formed. 

Ryuji looks at him with confusion, bits of wariness worked in. “Do you need any help?”

Akira ignores the question and wraps him in a tight hug. Ryuji may not know him yet and this would undeniably ruin their future relationship, but this run would be reset by then. Now, he just needs to be sure that he can right all the wrongs he created.

Ryuji pushes against Akira’s shoulders but they weaken and eventually wrap around him. “Akira?” Ryuji’s voice is soft, a small curl of anguish filtering through it.

Akira freezes and pulls away from him. Ryuji shouldn’t know his name. He shouldn’t _remember_.

“What’s going on? Why are we—”

Akira falls into the headache ringing in his ears and drags the world down with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](https://fade-from-the-light.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Cover art can be found [here](https://fade-from-the-light.tumblr.com/post/622553363433799681/a-train-with-no-destination).


	3. a life that's no more real than the shattered reflection in the mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's something he's noticed, as he meanders through his runs, these cracks in his vision. They're jagged and can't line up just right.
> 
> In the right light, it looks like blood coats them. He doesn't know who's it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I've gotten this chapter up and I'm not the happiest with it but it's better than I expected.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it.
> 
> Beta read by my lovely friend ['Nate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowtoProcrastinate).

Akira sits with Shinya on the edge of the dock, the weather-worn wood creaking beneath them. The Tower Arcana flutters within Shinya, full; it’s one of the few Akira’s decided to complete this run, to continue until they reach fruition. The unfinished yet complete Justice Arcana trembles mockingly just out of eyesight, reminding him who exactly he’s ignoring. Who exactly he should be saving.

The idea of Akechi knowing that Akira is trying to save him is amusing. Akechi was nothing if not independent, cutting relationships down into deals and agreements that can be terminated with a moment's notice. Ignoring the finer intricacies of their interactions. But Akira doubts that Akechi sees the bonds in the same way that he does, assuming that he sees them at all. 

Akechi may be a wildcard but he was sent out into the world to wreak havoc, not weave a fine tapestry of bonds and relationships that prove to a warped god that humanity is not beyond hope. But Akira doesn’t doubt that Akechi has some form of a bond with him. Every bond that Akira’s created has been mutually beneficial, Akechi’s being no different. It might be the reason that they meet time and time again under these circumstances.

It might be the reason that Akira is unable to leave the Justice Arcana unfinished. 

Shinya shifts beside him, crumpling the remains of a wrapper in his hand. He shoves it into his pocket, pausing a moment before speaking. “Hey Akira. I just wanted to ask—” He pauses again, biting his lip, the swinging of his legs slowing over the darkened water. “—is everything okay?”

“What makes you ask that?” Akira looks away from Shinya, watching the water shimmer with the light from the setting sun. Occasionally something ripples in the water, a shadow of a creature that he doesn’t know. 

“I don’t know.” Shinya’s voice is quiet, wavering with hesitation. “You seem off, withdrawn I guess. I want to make sure you're okay.”

Chilled air bites the exposed skin on Akira’s face, icy with the faint sting of salt. It was far too cold to be traveling to the beach, but Shinya wanted to go somewhere and Akira offered. Even now, he’s not sure what drew him to this location, other than the relative emptiness due to the weather. 

“I’m fine.” The words feel tacky in his mouth and the smile he gives Shinya is plastic and fake on his face. “I’m working out something but it's nothing you should worry about.”

“It’s got to do with the Phantom Thieves, right?” Shinya couldn’t hide the admiration in his voice, not from Akira. A smile breaks out across his face. “I haven’t seen much about them recently but they have to be behind this.”

“Behind what?” Akira pretends like he didn’t know what Shinya was talking about. What he should be dealing with.

“Everyone’s happiness. No one’s arguing anymore and the teachers are starting to lighten up on the work they give.” An odd forlornness rests in Shinya’s words, sitting on the edges and easily missed if one wasn’t looking.

“Are you happy?” Akira meets Shinya’s gaze, a faint glimmer of curiosity sparking within him. 

“Yeah.” Shinya says the words like he’s admitting to doing something wrong. “I’m happy. Everything’s working out with Mom and I’m doing better at school with the other students.” Shinya’s expression twists, doubt and reluctance settling deep within it.

“But something’s wrong, isn’t there?” Akira prompts gently.

Shinya looks away from him, almost guiltily. He fiddles with the strings on his scarf before responding. “I have this feeling that I can’t really explain that if we continue like this, something bad is going to happen to you.”

“Nothing will happen to me.” But Akira can’t help but hear that little voice that reminds him something bad will happen if he doesn’t get his act together in this run. He’s been stalling for far too long, watching while everything slowly crashes around him. 

“I know that!” Frustration curls in Shinya’s voice, hiding a thin layer of anger. “But I can’t stop feeling like you’re going to get hurt.”

“I won’t get hurt.”

Shinya grabs onto Akira’s hands, tightening his grip to the point his nails are digging into Akira’s gloves. “Promise me that.” His eyes are alight with an anguish that Akira knows isn’t from this run. His voice quiets, quivering. “Please.”

Akira returns the grasp, holding his hands over Shinya’s. “I promise.”

Lying has never felt so bitter.

“Thank you.” Akira hates how relieved Shinya sounds with those words, how willing he is to trust someone with so many masks that they have no idea who they are beneath them. 

Akira removes his hands and reaches up to ruffle Shinya’s hair. “Don’t worry kid, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Shinya grins and they both turn back to the sea. They’re quiet for a while, watching as the water crashes and recedes in methodical waves. 

“One day,” Shinya asks, not taking his gaze off the horizon. “Do you think that I’ll be able to travel out there?”

He would never be able to travel out into the sea. Akira could never break free from the cycle and neither could anyone else trapped with him. He forces them to repeat the same events, continue to dream for a future that they’ll never reach. He wonders if the awe in Shinya’s voice is edging of forlorn.

He wonders if, on some instinctive level, Shinya knows that he’ll never be able to travel across the ocean.

“Some day.” Akira looks at the horizon and it's like seeing the faint light of the hallway beyond the reaches of his cell bars.

Shinya nods and stifles a yawn. Akira stands and holds out a hand to help guide Shinya to his feet. They board the first train back to the city and he brings Shinya back to his home. Shinya waves to Akira with the promise of hanging out again soon.

The second that Akira reaches LeBlanc he pulls out his phone and dials a number that should’ve been long since discontinued. It takes three rings before he receives an answer.

“Have you made your decision?” Maruki’s voice filters through the speaker, unsurprisingly clear.

“Yes.” Akira doesn’t say any more but he knows that Maruki can hear the choice in his voice.

“You made the right one.” Maruki sounds proud if a bit weary.

The world around him warps and Akira swears that he can faintly hear the sound of one of his Arcana shattering.

——

Akira lets himself be dragged throughout the city by his well-intentioned friends. They cycle through who gets to take him to the next destination, the previous person disappearing to a location they're not disclosing. This was unexpected, in the vague, almost muted way any small deviation is. A thick sense of deja vu rests over him, twisting with the dull ringing in his head. At some point, in the mush of runs he couldn’t quite remember, they’ve done something like this. 

He feels no need to reset at this moment. If it becomes more than well meaning surprise, he can collapse this world. It wasn’t going that well, anyways.

(Part of him—the part of him that burns colder than the emptiness it resides in, that he doesn't like to look at—reminds that he’s becoming too reliant on the resets. He’s unable to bring himself to care.)

Ryuji leaves him in the care of Makoto, roughly extracting Morgana from his bag with a promise that he’ll return him and the dulled protests from the cat. Makoto offers a half-smile for an explanation and drags him to another store. 

“Could you wait here for a bit?” Makoto asks, a small smile on her face that edges on sheepish. “I need to drop in and pick up something. It shouldn’t take long.” 

Akira shrugs his shoulders. “Sure.” 

She enters the store, leaving Akira to his thoughts. He sits for a few minutes, tapping his foot and letting his gaze flit over the crowd. A familiar figure catches his gaze and a thin grin stretches across his face. He pushes away from the wall and takes off into the crowd. He’s never been good at staying put.

It takes only a moment for Akechi to see him, his eyes narrowing once he spots the small wave that Akira gives him from across the crowd. Akechi stops by a bench, pulling out his phone to feign interest. Akira approaches him and learns on the wall next to him. 

“I can’t place what compelled you to follow me like this.” Akechi layers his voice thick with annoyance but it can’t quite hide the intrigue and interest. There’s something within his gaze that Akira can’t place, something that makes the pounding in his head evident. 

Akira shrugs. “You didn’t look like you were busy.” Akechi gives him a pointed look, subtly gesturing to the briefcase in his hand that he’s never seen without. “And I was bored.” Akira amends.

“It’s good to know that my harassment gives you pleasure.” A smile that’s almost a smirk tugs at Akechi’s lips. “You know that I could report you for stalking?”

Akira hums. “You enjoy my company, you just won’t admit it.”

“And you’re confident with that statement?” Akechi watches him, gauging his reaction.

Akira skims the storefronts, spotting a quaint yet popular cafe. Cakes and other treats were advertised in the window. Akira points it out. “Let’s go there and see how long you’ll last in my company.”

Akechi pretends to contemplate the offer but Akira knows that he’ll accept. He’s not one to back down from a challenge, even one as insignificant as this one. “Fine.” Akechi’s voice is carefully flattened, letting only a faint curl of amusement through. The edge of his tone is oddly sharp but Akira can’t place why. “I’ve always wanted to eat there but never had the opportunity.”

“I’m happy to provide.” Akira regards him with a grin that’s a little too sharp on the edges and guides the two of them into the store. Akechi’s name is enough to get them prime seats at the window with a nice view of the plaza. 

The waiter hands them menus and Akira glances over his. He doesn’t bother ordering coffee, quite confident that it wouldn’t be nearly as good as anything LeBlanc servers. He orders a cake that’s almost too ornate to eat and Akechi does the same, although he risks ordering the coffee.

“You can get a better cup at LeBlanc.” Akira informs Akechi after watching him take a sip and place down the cup a little too abruptly.

“I don’t see you with a cup, how do you even know how it tastes?” Akechi pushes the coffee away in favor of picking up his fork.

“I’m confident in LeBlanc’s coffee.” Akira brings a bite of the cake to his mouth. It’s surprisingly good, better than anything he thought that precisely decorated could taste. “I should know, I live there.”

“In the attic of all places.” Akechi places the fork back onto the plate without taking a bite. A teasing smile rests on his lips. “Although you’re not doing very well in convincing me to enjoy your company by discrediting the coffee at the establishment you chose.”

“Are you telling me that my belief about coffee is enough to dissuade you from continuing our conversation?” Akira lets an easy smile rest on his lips, letting the edges rise in a teasing turn. “I thought that was the only reason that you kept me around.”

Akechi’s expression flickered, his hand clenching against the table. “How could I forget.” His voice dips, curling with an odd note of resentment.

Something was wrong.

“That’s the only reason why you’re still here.” Akechi eyes smolder with anger barely repressed.

Something was terribly wrong.

Akira steadies his hands against his legs, the cake left forgotten on the table. He ignored the ringing flooding his thoughts. “What do you mean?” Akira tries to feign ignorance. Spindly fear bubbles within him, twisting with an odd intrigue. 

“There’s a matter that we need to discuss.” Akechi stands, his briefcase in one hand. He tucks a pile of folded bills under the untouched cake. “In a more private location.”

Akira follows Akechi’s example and stands, paying for his own dessert. He watches Akechi with a guarded gaze, cautiously following him when he departs. They weave through the crowd and Akira keeps his head ducked. By now, Makoto surely has noticed that Akira’s left and he can’t risk her noticing him. Not when he’s this close to figuring out something.

He can always reset if things don’t go as planned. 

Akechi stops in a secluded, shaded corner of the mall, stairs twisting upwards beside them. He pulls out his phone and opens the MetaNav. His gaze hard, a volatile darkness crashing within it. 

(Why is Akechi doing this? He shouldn’t be doing this. This—this isn’t right.)

Akira doesn’t stop him when he activates it.

Akechi stands across from Akira, his form flickering between the stark white of his prince outfit and the tight, dark outfit of the Black Mask. Eventually it settles on the darker one. Unhidden anger—ironically still hidden by his mask—twists his face into something almost unrecognizable. Akira is dressed in his own thief’s attire, knife and gun strapped against his hip and his tail coat fluttering in the nonexistent wind.

Akechi pulls out his gun, the barrel long with a silencer. He holds it in his hands for a moment before leveling it at Akira’s head. His aim is surprisingly steady. 

Akira is unsurprisingly unconcerned. 

“This time I won't mess up.” Akechi's voice is shaking, trembling with anger and frustration. “No matter how many times I tried with the interrogation room, you always walked away. But now you have no means of escape.”

“How do you know that?” Akira couldn’t keep the waver of disbelief from his voice, tinted with thin threads of fear. It settles deep within him, nestled right next to the emptiness that he didn’t think could feel anything. The part of him he doesn’t like to look at reminded him that he can’t hide from his emotions forever.

“So you remember too.” A bitter laugh bubbles up between Akechi’s words and a thin grin pulls on his lips. “You thought all of this was funny, didn’t you? Fooling me over and over again.”

“That’s not why I do this.” Akira shifts, trying to ignore the rising pounding in his head, the ringing that was drowning out everything else.

“Like I should believe you.” Akechi tightens his grip on the gun, finger stiff against the trigger. “But that doesn’t matter. I’ll stop you now.”

His finger tightens against the trigger and a shot rings out.

Akira pulls back just before the bullet could hit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I greatly appreciate your kudos but hope you guys can comment so I know that I'm not yelling into the void.
> 
> See you guys next Thursday!
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](https://fade-from-the-light.tumblr.com/).


	4. with eyes that stare back with a burning, ivory cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He holds the fractured shards of the worlds long gone in his grasp. He tries to put them back together.
> 
> They never look quite right, never look the way that they should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry for missing last week's update. I had some personal stuff going on and wasn't able to finish the chapter. But I hope that you guys will enjoy this one!
> 
> Beta read by my lovely friend ['Nate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowtoProcrastinate).

Akira leans against the wall by Untouchables, long shadows cast by the setting sun cutting through the alley. Lavenza stands beside the blue doors to the Velvet Room, watching him with thinly-veiled curiosity.

“Trickster.” Her voice is soft with a lilt from a language he couldn’t place. “What brings you here if you’re not to see my Master?”

Akira looks out to the street, the world warping slightly at the edges of his vision. Even near the protection of the Velvet Room, Maruki’s influence can still be seen. “How long can you be away from the Velvet Room?”

“Not indefinitely but certainly long enough. Why do you ask?” 

“Caroline and Justine asked me to bring them around the city, would you like to do the same?” Akira doesn’t know what exactly compelled him to ask her out like this. A faint ringing started in his head but dulled by the presence of the Velvet Room. Maybe that protection would extend to Lavenza, extending the time he can stay in this deviation.

She pauses, pursing her lips. “I remember that, albeit vaguely.” She smiles slightly. “Where would we even go?”

“There’s a lot of different places. But I have a place in mind that I think you’ll like.” Never mind the fact that it has long passed closing time. The world’s malleable enough now to take the gentle influence of pushing back closing them for the two of them.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” She let him guide her away from the Velvet Room, mirth dancing in her eyes.

“It’ll be a surprise.” 

Akira led her through multiple trains, ignoring any side-eyed gazes that he received. Not everyone could see her, but some of the more perceptive ones could glimpse her from the corner of their eyes.

They strode out of the final train station, walking a bit before stopping in front of a large building with water and fish decor surrounding it.

“You brought us to the aquarium?” Confusion layered Lavenza’s words, barely concealing the child-like glee threatening to slip through.

Akira shrugged his shoulders. “It seemed like the best place.”

It’s quite easy to pick the lock and enter the building, turning on lights as they go. No guards are present and Akira wonders if it’s part of Maruki’s influence, intentionally or not.

They wander around the aquarium for a little bit, Lavenza darting between exhibits with unrestrained awe. Although this was nothing he hasn’t seen before, he could appreciate the beauty of the exhibits. The Strength Arcana burned brightly within Lavenza, unified and complete. It was never damaged like the Faith Arcana, but he could always feel something strange about the bond. It was never met to be between two separate people and the thread was unraveled and thin because of that.

But every run he helped Lavenza repair the bond to its original state, gently weaving the misplaced threads back together and erasing the damage Yaldabaoth caused. It was the least he could do when so many times he would just let Akechi end the run early by blowing a neat little hole in his head.

Eventually Lavenza slows to a stop before a large yet empty tank. She turns back to face him, a serious expression on her face, heightened by the dull blue light casted over her by the tank. It stains the edges of her silver hair. “You didn’t bring us out here just for entertainment, did you?” There was no accusation in her voice but Akira could almost imagine it there.

“I thought a conversation was long overdue.” He’s ignored this every run he’s completed. Talking with Lavenza or Igor brought uncertainty into the situation, uncertainty that he didn’t want to deal—you didn’t want to handle, the small part of him whispers just out of view—with.

While there’s confusion clearly written over her expression, there’s a thinly laid acceptance that he doesn’t even know if Lavenza knows it's there. She sits down on the nearby bench and he joins her. “It’s the distortion within the Metaverse, isn’t it?”

He knows that she’s referring to the cycles, even if she’s not aware that time is repeating. He’s noticed how the Metaverse is being affected, even if it’s subtle and seemingly unnoticeable. “Yes, and Jose. He’s still there despite everything that happened with Yaldabaoth.”

She tremors slightly at the name, a fear that he doubts she acknowledges. It seems like Akira’s the only one willing to use his real name. After facing him over and over again, any respect or fear he held for the god has long since dissipated. “My Master and I have tried to find the cause of the distortion but were unsuccessful. It doesn’t seem like it’s the result of the God of Control or Maruki’s actions.” 

“And Jose?”

“He’s not someone you should concern yourself with. He’s harmless.”

So Lavenza knows of Jose. He wasn’t sure how much she knew and if she even knew of the strange boy driving throughout Mementos. “Why do you say that?” Not that he doubts Jose’s harmless. The boy had no desire to hurt them.

Lavenza pauses, fiddling with her skirt before answering. “I can’t say. I’ve never asked my Master about him, but I have a feeling that it isn’t necessary.”

“He looks a little bit like you.” That was an understatement; both children have silver-white hair and piercing golden eyes that mirrors a Shadow’s.

“It’s puzzled me.” She removes her hands from her skirt and threads them together. “No one’s ever mentioned the possibility of another male attendant.” She frowns, narrowing her eyes.

“Attendant?” That was new. Were there other people like Lavenza?

“I’ve never met them personally, but Igor has spoken of his previous attendants in passing. I never thought to press him on more about them.”

“Could Jose be one of those?” Akira looked up to the ceiling, watching the fish swim overhead in the tank fixed above them.

“No.” Her response was abrupt and sharp, cutting off any argument. “He’s not any of them.” Discomfort filtered through her voice, bleeding into her expression.

Akira didn’t push her any further, letting the silence filter over them as they watched the fish meander across their tanks. The one on their far right always stayed empty with only the back lights pulsing periodically illuminating the attraction. Akira watched his reflection in the glass flicker and warp with the faint movement of the water. It stared back at him with disinterested eyes.

Lavenza rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes half-closed. A small, content smile rested on her lips. Akira shook her gently. “Lavenza, it’s time to go.”

She looked at him beadily. “Already? Have we been out here that long?”

He guided her off the bench. “Long enough for Maruki’s influence to start taking hold.”

She followed him back to the Velvet Room without complaint, periodically needing to be shaken awake when they sat on the train or in between stops. She started to become more alert the closer they got to the door. Once he was sure she’d be fine, he turned and walked away.

“Trickster.” He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Let’s do this again sometime.” A larger smile was on her face, a bit hesitant as if she didn’t quite know how to let it rest.

“Of course.” Akira returned her smile. It was sharp and fake and built off of promises he knew that he couldn’t keep. Sometimes he wonders why he even tries.

Sometimes he wonders if he could even stop.

——

Akira’s sitting on the edge of his bed when his phone rings. It’s only one day after Christmas, two days after he tore Yaldabaoth down from his throne. Two days since he talked to Sae, waiting to hear Akechi’s familiar voice, feeling the faint tremor of their bonds reconnecting—that should’ve been the moment in his original run so long ago that he knew something was wrong. Maybe he did and couldn’t accept it until now.

He still holds tight onto the Justice Arcana, having long since realized the almost indiscernible falsity of the bond. It was a mirror of the state of their world, a fine piece of Maruki’s influence present in everything he manipulates. It’s a signature that follows Akira even into the next runs, reminding exactly what he has to lose if he ends it early.

Occasionally, it would stop him from closing his eyes and letting Akechi pull the trigger.

Akira answers the phone, almost bemused by the disruption. But even these deviations have become normal and when he learned that they wouldn’t result in the termination of the cycles, he stopped being able to make himself care.

“Kurusu.” Maruki’s voice filters through the phone, more distorted than Akira would’ve expected. Maruki’s never called Akira this early in the cycle, before he’s gained control of the world that he desires; the world that Akira put at his fingertips. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

“Where would you like to talk?” It’s easier for Akira to agree with Maruki. He was already planning to accept the deal when offered, what does one more conversation make?

“Meet me at the nurse’s office in the school. The gate will be unlocked.” A muffled sound of rustling is heard before the call ends. Akira pockets his phone and grabs his bag from the table. It’s light without Morgana’s presence, thumping against his back as he walks down the stairs.

LeBlanc is empty, the lights off and the chairs put up for the night. He weaves around them, careful not to disturb anything. Not that it’ll truly matter in the end. He can feel the ever present ringing in his head grow. Either Maruki will offer him a deal that he can’t deny or he’ll reset and tear this world down.

No one stops him on his journey to Shujin, not even a well-intentioned cop trying to maintain curfew. The gate is unlocked as Maruki promised and Akira slips inside the building. 

His steps echo through the empty halls, his breath loud against the silence. The door to the nurse’s office is ajar with a thin strip of light cutting through the floor of the hall. He nudges the door open and steps inside, Maruki already sitting in the office.

His posture is an imitation of relaxation, but his hands that are clasped together before him betray his uncertainty and anxiety. Akira regards him with cold indifference. 

(Part of him screams that this was what he wanted. That Maruki is going to tear him open and see what exactly isn’t inside.)

“My goal with this isn’t to bring harm to anyone. I want to help people reach a state where they can be happy with who they are by helping grant the desire within that they didn’t know they had.” A tiredness rests in Maruki’s voice. One that can easily be mistaken for defeat. “But I have a feeling that you already know this.”

Something tremors within Akira, a bond that slowly unearths despite his best attempts to sever it. “What do you mean?” His words weren’t as steady as he would’ve liked.

“Your desire isn’t what I expected. You want to end it all.” Maruki pauses, staring down Akira with eyes that are far too old and have seen far too much.

Eyes that he sees whenever he looks in a mirror.

“But you’re not looking to die, are you?” Maruki continues like he knows Akira's feelings, like he understands.

But he can’t understand because if he did that would mean something is very, _very wrong_.  
“No.” Akira finds himself admitting. “I’m not.”

If it was that easy, then this would’ve been over a long, long time ago.

“What is it that you want to end, then?” Maruki kept his voice steady, calm with professional concern.

“I have a feeling that you already know.” Akira paused, waiting for Maruki to continue the conversation, to guide it with his false assumptions away from what’s truly going on. But Maruki didn’t speak and Akira continued on. “This isn’t the first time that this year has occurred.”

“You want to end the cycles.” Curiosity sparks within Maruki’s gaze, thinly veiled behind a steady professionalism.

“You believe me?” Akira levels with an equally steady gaze, challenging Maruki to counter him. “Or are you just feeding into my delusion?”

“I believe you.” Maruki leans back, tightening his grip on his hands threaded together. “I’ve had this unexplainable feeling of deja vu, that I’ve done everything before.”

“But you don’t remember it.” Akira couldn’t keep the fractured shards of accusation from cutting into his voice. Maruki tried to bring his situation down to a level that he could relate while ignoring the root of the problem. “Not like I do.”

Because remembering it was the worse part, the hopelessness of being unable to change even a single thing or having your actions mean anything. No matter what he does or who he hurts, the slate is wiped clean and he gets to start over. This listlessness has long since evolved into apathy that consumes him slowly, tearing a piece away from him every time that he continues to wake up.

Maybe if Maruki had come earlier, when there was something still left of Akira, he might’ve been more successful.

“It doesn’t appear so.” Maruki studies him. Akira lets him. There’s nothing there for him to find anyways

“Why did you call me here anyways? We both know that you’re nowhere near ready to offer me anything.”

“You’re misinterpreting my goals.” Maruki smiles like there’s a joke there to be shared between them. “I’ve always wanted to help you.”

Akira stands, ignoring the ringing that was growing inside his head, the distinct feeling that what he was doing was wrong. “If you could help, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Maruki regards him with an expression of pity. “You’ll find that you’re happier with what I have to offer.”

Anger boils up within him, hot and uncontrollable; it burns his exposed flesh that had become accustomed to the leeching cold of the emptiness. “I won’t be.” Akira hissed, unable to stop the fire from consuming the void within him. It spills out into his movements; his hands trembling at his sides in fists too tight for comfort. “I should know.”

Akira turns on his heel and walks out of the office. He keeps his pace steady, slowing it so he wouldn’t break out into a run. He ignores the ringing in his head until he is outside the school building, only then letting it crash down around him. 

This world is useless to him now. There is something else he had to do in the next one. 

Something that he doesn’t know if he could stop if he tries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate your kudos and comments!
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](https://fade-from-the-light.tumblr.com/).


End file.
